Patches
by Malign Empyrean
Summary: You needed someone... anyone, you knew that. You did not, however, know just how much they needed you. (A bit of an experiment) The rating will rise come later chapters.


**I do not own The Walking Dead or anything of or relating to The Walking Dead. I am not making any money from this and I wouldn't even if I could. I also do not intend any copy right infringement.**

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><p><em>I feel as though there should be some context to this. I would like at some point for this to take on two different 'stories' much in the same sense of a Choose Your Own Adventure book, though there will be only two options and you just follow the chapters specified for the single choice you made.<em>

_In other words, this is going to be a Reader and Rick paired fanfiction as well as a Reader and Daryl paired fanfiction._

_They are to be read as one or the other... not both._

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><p>A scream bubbles from the back of your throat as your hands stiffly drop the revolver to the grass. You're eyes water as you look down at the body below you. This wasn't who you were—before all this you were a kind and gentle person, now you stood over a body swallowed by guilt and shame.<p>

You drop to your knees as the scream finally releases and falls to a sob. As your mouth is stuck open, you bring her body into your arms. Hair matted with blood glues to your palm as you cradle her sweet, sweet head. She was your best friend. As you wipe her blood smeared cheek, you close your eyes and grit your teeth as another sob struggles to come out.

You two had been through it all; the running, the reanimated, the hardship, the survival. She was there when you were weak and she helped build you into the person you were today. You shake your head as her limp body lies over your legs. She protected you and you were unable to do the same for her. She was bit and you were scared—as much as you tried to keep her calm, inside, you were panicking and terrified for what would come when she took her final breath.

You didn't give her the chance to turn. It was an unspoken agreement; a silent promise.

You shake your head again as your hand mindlessly falls to your side. It feels the grip of the revolver and, suddenly, you believe you know the answers to your sorrow. Your hand brings the barrel of the gun to your temple and you look straight ahead as if you were above the situation. You were in pain; this offered release when there was nothing left.

Your mind races through the passing images over the last two years. You see the faces of your mother and father before they quickly turn into the things that have been hunting you. You see the face of your friend smiling and laughing even after the world had gone to shit. She was so strong… she was the one who pulled you out of these dark moments.

You rise from her body and take ten paces before stopping. Your hand shakes as your finger holds the trigger. Your eyes shut tightly.

_Click_!

Your heart sinks and you let out a holler of angst. There were no bullets left. You lower your head and drop your hand down to your side. There was no way out of this.

Suddenly, your head snaps in the direction a twig sounds in. Your eyes narrow; it didn't seem to matter how solemn a moment was, threat was enough to turn you into a completely different being even when it was all you sought was death.

Slowly, your shoulders relax as you take aim at the surrounding trees. The chamber may have been empty, but they didn't know that. You can't see your pursuer, but you know they are there. As you take in a deep breath and stifle a cry, a tall figure exits the woods. His eyes are the first thing you see; soft and blue—but hard and intense under his brow.

His hands rise slowly from his sides as he takes notice of the gun aimed his way. "We heard a scream," he says simply. "Thought it was one of our own," he adds as if you don't already feel lonely enough.

Your eyes break his as you look to the grass before pushing your hair out of your face.

"Are you okay?" he asks making you look back at him. He was a brave man; a body lied between you and him yet he had the nerve to stick around. Before you can open your mouth and give an answer you're unsure of, another figure comes out from the trees.

"Find anything—," the new face loses colour as his dark eyes look to you with the gun and then fall onto the body. "Holy sh—,"

"It's all right, Glenn," the man says with a half turn of his head. You feel your brow furrow as the two look back at you. "Listen, li'l lady," he says calmly, "we're both armed. Don't do anything rash."

You swing the revolver to your side and sigh. What did it matter if they were a threat? Everything you loved, everything you cared about—everything your friend represented—was gone. Your hand holsters the gun into your belt and your eyes lower to the grass.

"Go away," you murmur. Tears burn at your eyes as you keep them focused on the body's face. As much as it hurt to see her like this, you wanted to remember every detail—every dimple, every eyelash; you wanted her face branded into your memory.

Footsteps sound again but you care too little to look. "What's going on here?" a woman asks; her voice is soft and raspy, filled with urgency while still remaining calm, cool, and collected.

You can hear whispers between the three before a sound of disapproval followed by silence.

"Hey—," you lift your eyes from the face and look to the three strangers.

"I said go away," you say mundanely. You shake your head faintly, but you keep a watch on them.

"Where's your people?" Glenn asks after a few seconds.

You press your lips together and fight back the urge to cry. You nod you head to your friend's body. "She was all I had," you nearly whisper.

"Are there any others?" the first man asks, his baby blues looking to you and then towards the trees beyond as if searching for unseen people.

Quickly, you wipe away a tear before it can fall. "Just me…" you say. It was an effort to keep your pain in—an effort not to scream and cry before these stranger.

"How many walkers have you killed—,"

"Rick," the woman says as if to hush him.

The man raises his hand her way and shakes his head before looking back to you. "How many walkers have you killed?" he repeats.

You fight a frown and give a shrug. There were so many… too many.

"How many people have you killed?" Rick asks, his head nodding slowly.

You had only killed one; a man on the verge of turning. "One," you say effortlessly. Why did it matter?

"Why?" Rick asks, his brow rising with the final test.

"He begged me to do it," you say softly. "He held the gun to his head and just… he couldn't pull the trigger." It was harder to do it yourself; you understood why he asked you for help now. Your hand absentmindedly touches the grip of your revolver; that was the story behind your weapon.

Rick nods. He looks back at Glenn and the woman. Glenn gives a hesitant nod as the woman furrows her brow and gives a slow and stern shake of her head. Rick takes a step towards you and you watch as the woman grabs his forearm.

"Think about what you're doing," she says. "You don't know her… we don't know what she's capable of."

"Michonne, it's fine," Rick says with a half grin as if to pass on his ease to her. The woman releases him and he looks back to you. "What's your name?" he asks.

You furrow your brow. Names didn't matter anymore; you scarcely remembered the man's name… there was no point in memorizing a name when the people were gone before you could blink.

"Everyone has a name," Glenn says with a cheeky half smirk.

You push back your hair and sigh. "Names don't last…" You make a face. "_People_ don't last," you correct yourself.

"Anythin' we can call you?" Rick asks with a shrug. You merely stare back at him unwilling to disclose such information. Not only did you find it unnecessary, but you felt as though it were almost an invasion of privacy.

"Okay," Rick says, his eyes widening as he looks away from you. He takes a breath. "I don't know about you, but we've come to find that there's safety in numbers," he says. "It would probably be best if you came with us… less of a chance…" He furrows his brow and twists his head. "There's a better chance of survival," he says but you know that wasn't how he intended to end.

"What if I don't want to go?" you ask.

"You're too young to be on your own out here," he says trying to reason with you. "It's not safe for a woman to be alone," he adds. You give a faint nod. You knew just how dangerous it could be with _two_ women. Your friend had killed a man while he held you down pulling your pants around you ankles. The threat of rape was always present in the world, but, now, it was so much more prominent.

You watch as Glenn looks back at you from behind Rick. Your eyes turn to Michonne as she furrows her brow; she was the epitome of strength and she oozed it without saying a word. Between the three of these people, you can feel the power that radiates off their skin. It is intoxicating and far too tempting to reject Rick's invitation.

"Where is it?" you hear yourself ask. "Where's your camp?"

"Just follow us."

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><p><strong>Like I said in the summary, this is an experiment. If there is a demand for this, I will update accordingly. <strong>

**For now, however, this is simply an experiment.**

**Let me know what you think of it please.**


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